Loners
by Arabesque No. 2
Summary: Semi nonrelated drabbles that center on the romantic relationship, or lack thereof, of Theodore Nott and Luna Lovegood. Ratings vary from K to T, possibly M. 9 themes out of 100 themes completed.
1. Colors

**Colors**

Theodore grew up knowing colors didn't belong on him or his clothes, and he detested them back. Slytherins didn't need colors.

Out of the mental list of topics that he hated, he believed that colors belonged to his top twenty. He would look at a rainbow that spanned over the azure sky, or the luminescent stars twinkling in the obsidian night and wished to abolish them, wanting to stop the happiness and joy it brought to his fellow peers.

But… he couldn't strip himself of attaching several connotations to those abominations of pigment…

One morning, at the foot of the stairway that lead to the Great Hall, his eyes came to rest upon not just an array of colors, but a visible masterpiece.

Luna Lovegood wasn't just a piece of art.

She was the definition of perfection.

Her scraggly blonde hair was flapping behind her as she did a light jog down the stairs, possibly weaving more knots into her already tangled hair. Uniquely chosen for a fine summer day, an intricate pattern of lavender, magenta and periwinkle flowers adorned the dress she wore under her robes. For one moment, their eyes met and her often hazy cerulean eyes were crystal clear as if a glass that could be seen through. Her gaze nearly melted his frozen Slytherin heart.

In that one moment when he looked at Luna, he saw every variation of hues there was known to mankind. He saw the purples, the reds, the yellows, the blues, the oranges, and the greens. He didn't see a visual blight on society.

He only saw the beauty of the colors that she had wanted him to see.


	2. Books

**Books**

Their story is epic, as if they were a modern day Hades and Persephone.

He's the reality in her fantasy world filled with fields of sweet-smelling flowers, journeys to far-off lands, and ever-shining sunlight.

She believes he's the one person that can ground her to this earth, this world, this soil that's she's been treading ever so softly above.

When he's around her, she knows what's real enough and what she can come to grips with.

He makes her realize this world that's been staring at her since she's been born.

* * *

She's the imagination in his world full of Death Eaters, blood splattering the walls of abandoned houses, and hatred that remains remembered by every scratch and scar on his body.

He believes she's the most magical being he has ever had the grace to pass by. 

When she's around him, he knows he doesn't have to count on his emotions and he doesn't have to heighten his senses.

She makes him imagine impossibility, and that he can have his own dream world with her in it.


	3. Torture

**Torture**

His azure eyes blazed with icy flames in visible fury, his mind filling with plots of death and destruction.

Had he not been walking past this particular corridor, she would've had to endure more than the purpling bruises and bleeding cuts that tainted her fair, pale skin.

Gripping his wand tight, he quickly spit out a few hexes that would leave those imbecilic 7th year Ravenclaws crying for more than the comfort of their mothers.

Such a fragile girl.

She kept her eyes open and blank, her back to the wall while silently crying and allowing tears to sting her wounds.

That image tugged at his sanity, and he **_never_** wanted to see her in that situation ever again.


	4. Dance

**Dance**

"I can teach you how to dance, you know."

"How the hell did you get in here, Loony?"

"Well, the door wasn't locked, and that seemingly used to mean that no one occupied the room."

"..."

"You were doing fine, until you fumbled with that one step. It's supposed to be---"

"I know how it's supposed to be! Slytherins may seem uninterested with everything around them, but they're not brain dead, if that's what you think!" With every word, his voice reached a higher octave than before, sounding more paranoid and irrational rather than intimidating.

"Seeing as you're trying to learn _dancing_ from a **_book_**, I'd think otherwise."

An astonished pause, blinking and then a frustrated sigh ensue.

"Who made you the expert on dancing?"

"No one. I appointed myself."


	5. Eyes

**Eyes**

Theodore sits, unwavering, in his designated breakfast seat.

Forks clanking, spoons churning.

His daily routine had just begun.

Theodore knows that at exactly 7 o'clock at the Ravenclaw dining table, Luna Lovegood positions herself the side opposite where he does, wherever he might be.

He never faces her direction, but he never ceases to feel Luna's eyes on him.

Those eerily clouded eyes, boring into his body and mind as if they were searching for an intangible idea…

Something that couldn't possibly be there... much like her sanity.

He quite enjoys the childish game, allowing her to delight in his **heavenly**, good looks.

But on this morning, this _exact_ and **_particular_** morning, he doesn't know why he does it, but he experimentally stares back.

But wait...

What's this?

The bundles of nerves that spring up in his skin don't come.

She has finally stopped her habitual stares.

With feelings of loss and longing... though he didn't know exactly why... Theodore sincerely hoped that she found what she was looking for.


	6. Kiss

**Kiss**

At the moment, the Forbidden Forest was not living up to its name.

Two students lay at the foot of its trees, underneath the tightly packed canopy that barely let moonlight squeeze through.

Both students seemed to be content with their position, facing each other, and both of their outward hands were intertwined. The boy's other hand was occupied with tangling inside the girl's waist-length tresses.

Their faces started to inch closer and closer until both of them felt the tingle of their breaths mingling.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and continued to lavish her mouth with his lips, finding that momentary bliss that he had wanted to feel forever.

The girl broke the kiss with a sigh and her face revealed hazy eyes and mysterious smile.

"_Sensational._"

Never had the boy felt such a fiery passion as he did this night.


	7. Compassion

**Compassion**

Such a bright day it was in Diagon Alley for a breezy stroll.

A dismal man with obsidian locks walked hand-in-hand with a very peppy blonde who had a hazy disposition.

Little did they know, there was a miniscule kitten of a curious nature that was treading the gravel softly their way.

The kitten's white fur was matted with soot and dust; and malnutrition showed from the way it would gaze hungrily at sweets through store windows.

It was immediately spotted by the blonde who looked on the kitten with utmost pity and the highest regard.

"Achoo, achoo, _achoo_!"

"Oh, dear. Don't tell me you're allergic to cats, Theodore."

"I most certainly am! A bunch of walking disease traps, that lot!"

"…**_neurotic_**…"

"What was that, darling?" A cool glare was directed toward the blonde.

"Oh, nothing…" Soft chuckles graced his ears. "We should probably find it some food and then give it to one of the animal shops around here…"

"I think not! Who knows what could happen in the period of time that I expose myself---"

Something in Theodore's mind told him that was not the response Luna was looking for.

"_Have you any bit of compassion left in you, Theodore Ignatius Nott, or did the last time you had to save someone from peril mean_ nothing _to you?_" She shrieked until her eyes pierced his frail heart.

"Well," he sputtered, while her comment nagged at his conscience, "I was a different person back then, and I don't see why I have to feed **_it_** anything." He cast a distasteful glance towards the kitten, which had taking a liking to the bottom of his pants and was rubbing against them with definite affection.

"Look now, Theodore, it's already taken a liking to you." Luna bent down to scratch behind its ears and gave the kitten a pat on the head. "It'd be a shame to leave it starving in the middle of the street." She started to hum a soft tune and walk away.

Theodore had to sigh at his weakness to give the lady anything she wanted.

He bent and picked up the kitten without any hint of enthusiasm and cradled it in his left arm. Then he ran up to Luna and grasped her hand with his right.

"Oh, _alright_."


	8. Good vs Evil

**A/N:** A special thanks to _The Fishie_, _Professional scatterbrain_, and _Mrs Pierre Bouvier_ for reviewing!

**Good vs. Evil**

A female of naught but sixteen years old was magically bound to a chair and kept locked inside a cell. It housed nothing but the darkness that seeped in through the metal bars that withheld her.

The only visitor she had and looked forward to seeing, ironically, was her captor.

Whenever he came to visit, he would always give her the same offer. He would lean down to be level with the shell of her ear and whisper pleadingly into it. "I can get you out of here if you give them just one tiny hint of the Order's whereabouts." Sometimes, not so gentle when he was being kept an eye on.

She would never accept or budge with her declination.

One day, when the war had reached another one of its climactic peaks, Voldemort himself had seen to it that he'd give his opposers a bit of a tactical scare that threatened the lives of his many prisoners.

The girl's last few moments were spent with her all-too-familiar companion.

"Don't make me do this, Lovegood…" Her captor shakily walked up to where she was and pointed his wand, with a trembling hand, directly at her heart. Her eyes never left his.

With a whisper, he said the one curse he had been avoiding to use the whole war. "_Avada Kedavra._" He hung his head in remorse for what he had just done.

Her body fell limp and lifeless.

"I'm so sorry, Luna." And he left the cell with a heavy tug on his heart.


	9. Music

**A/N:** In my summary, notice how I said these drabbles aren't related? I lied. This one is a companion drabble to '_Dance_'.

**Music**

"Why are you dancing without any music?"

"It tends to distract me when I'm practicing." His voice had never sounded any snobbier.

A tiny giggle-snort slipped out of Luna's mouth.

"Is there something funny about my methods of preparation?"

"Oh, no, nothing at all…"

"Was that sarcasm, Lovegood!"

"No, of course not."

"I'd like to see you dance while thinking about social humiliation and ostracism because you can't tap two feet on a stable floor; and adding to that, while listening to the horrendous vocalizations of a thirty-something year old hack who can't fit into her worn out and old teenage robes that are half her size!"

No breaths were taken during the pronunciation of those two sentences.

Only Theodore's nerves were harmed.

His only response from Luna was that of rambunctious laughter and uncontrollable rolling on the floor.


End file.
